Parental Units

So I could say that the reason I haven't posted in almost a month is because I'm totally wrapped up in my little man, reading the "Twilight" series, sleeping, cleaning, watching TV...and it would all be true. But, mostly I think it's because I can't bring myself to type what's been on my mind and I haven't had anything else on my mind to type.
I haven't talked much about my family here. Mostly what I discuss is about me personally. I usually try to be lighthearted and even if the subject matter is serious or scary, I'll at least make an attempt at funny.
I've never been one to keep my feelings inside. I wear my life on my sleeve and if it comes up I'm not ashamed or embarrassed to talk about it. That being said, I also don't look for people to say "oh I'm sorry, that sucks" and I also realize that there are lots of people out there that can say "seriously, your life isn't bad at all compared to what I've been through". We all have our skeletons in the closet...we probably all need therapy.
So therapy, I'm supposed to be contacting my mom's counselor and going to see her. I was also supposed to do this years ago after the first "episode". I chickened out. Not because I don't think therapy/counseling/a shrink/someone might help. It's that once the "episodes" are over, I don't want to relive them. I want to pretend they never happened. That doesn't mean I forget, no, I don't forget. I just hate the big eared elephant in the room. But I've gotten to where as long as everyone is normal the elephant tends to move into another room.
WTH am I talking about? Well, ok...I'll try to explain myself. Again, I know your life was probably much harder than mine. I did and do have 2 loving parents, took dance and piano lessons, had cool clothes and even a car when I was 16...so poor pitiful me. Doesn't mean life was perfect...doesn't mean anyone's is despite what you might think you see. Saying it, talking about it, has always helped me.
I could type a ton of stories, stories of my parents divorce, being locked in a room when I was 4 to be kept safe from the arguement, the gun, the threats, the fighting even years after the divorce, feeling trapped and unsafe in my own home, the court case, the scariness, my father teasing me about my weight, my mother's husbands...but probably being "scared" sums it all up. My "scared" now turns to anger and I try to be as respectful as possible to my parents. I am now a parent and must try hard not to have my son see what I've seen (in me or my parents).
The first "episode" I was really aware of (I'm not sure if there were any prior to this) was about 7 years ago. I'd gone to my grandma's for Sunday lunch before I had to be back to work that afternoon. My mom was no where to be found when I got there. No one knew where she was. We were worried. It was odd for her not to be there especially since her only child had come into town for lunch and was on a tight schedule to get back to work. When she finally showed up for lunch she was livid. We'd (my aunt and cousins and I) gone looking for her and this apparently was the worst thing we could have done. She was yelling and fighting with her sister and upset with me. When I decided that I wasn't going to take it anymore, after all, I didn't live with her anymore, I was 22 and self sufficient. I got up to leave. That's when I saw the switch flip for the first time. She blocked the door so I couldn't escape. She started crying and acting, for lack of a better word, crazy. She grabbed me and wouldn't let go asking "what has the devil done". Totally freaked out and in tears now myself, with my aunt and grandma begging her to let me go. They tackled her and I ran out of the house and sped away. I can still see them lying on top of her in my grandma's living room. I hid for a day and then once I finally went back to my apartment she drove up every morning for a week and left messages on my car (a 45 drive for her). I finally conceded to talk to her. She drove us to a park (my first mistake because I'd never be able to leave of my own accord, therefore I never said everything I wanted, never let out all the anger, I felt trapped again). After that day, and until this day I could probably count on one hand how many times I've spent time alone with her. I fear that "craziness". Over the next few years I'd get emails or early morning phone calls, sob stories of "what's wrong with our relationship? what has the devil done to us?"
Despite my best efforts she doesn't listen when I actually try to tell her "what's wrong". She never actually lets me talk. She does the guilt trip thing when other people seem to know more about me than she does (though the hub and I swear we've actually told her the very things she claims not to know about us). I finally realized as of late that...she doesn't ask. When she calls, she tells me all about someone else or some other anecdotal story that has minimal relevance. She simply does not ask nor does she listen when I share.
I could go on and on...seriously.
The most recent episode occurred at the end of her visit after Connor was born. She was very helpful. Cooked, cleaned, fed the baby during the night, stayed out of our way each night so just the hub the baby and I could have family time...alone. Until Thursday night she was the perfect guest (time for her to leave on Friday). I was ready for her to leave, but mainly because I wanted things back to "normal" or for us to learn our new "normal". Earlier in the week she'd asked for a picture of Connor to take with her when she'd left. She doesn't have a camera (however she did run tons of errands and could have purchased a disposable one). The hub had 3 exams he was studying for all week and me, well, I'd just had a baby 5 days prior. Thursday night I escaped =) I went out on my own to Target to get more baby bottles and even some ice cream for myself. While at Target the lights went out...pitch black people...can't see your hand in front of your face BLACK! I was already suffering from crazy hormones I didn't need this on my first time out! Lights back on whew! Then before my heart could return to its normal rhythm...lights back out! I immediately decided to start moving to the exit when LIGHTS BACK ON. So I got the bottles and went to the closest register, paid and left. Went home. No icecream, nothing...just my baby's bottles. I got home, told my story and the first thing out of her mouth was "where's my picture"? Seriously? I apologized profusely, but it was not my intent to go back out...nor the hubs (LAW SCHOOL EXAM THE NEXT DAY...HELLO?!)
The next morning, almost time for her to leave, I tried to figure out how to print some from the camera. But the hub had his computer at school (LAW EXAM...HELLO?!) and I couldn't find all the cords, printer paper etc (I seriously tried hard). I went to take Connor to his grandma so she could feed him before she left (I figured she'd want to do that and I'd take a shower)...that's when the switch flipped again. I was attacked. Not physically this time...but with words. Purposely hurtful words. "If you'd appreciated what I'd been doing here all week you'd have remembered my picture...All I wanted was a picture to show the people I work with...Can't you understand how hard this is to leave with no picture...Why are you so compassionate to everyone else but me...I knew you'd be like this, just like your father...Apparently you have a closer relationship with (friend's name) mother than with me." It was all I could do to keep myself composed. If not for holding Connor I think I would have lost it (which I did later when the hub finally came home from his exam). How was that fair to do to me...I'd had a baby a week ago. Really? I was to blame? No, it wasn't the picture (that was just the icing on the psycho cupcake) it was that she's alone, in a tiny apartment, I have a beautiful baby, a loving husband, great friends...I have what she's wanted. She's jealous, envious...but not enough to hate me-she loves me too much for that.
I could give you so much more of the story. The many more phone calls, hurtful words, my promise to make an appointment with her counselor, that we changed our locks because I was scared (she doesn't know that part)...but now things are back to "normal". I forced normal much more quickly this time because of Christmas. I needed normal (as much as I can ever have that). I needed the stress to end. I needed to be concentrating on my child, being a mom, on me for crying out loud-because when it's only been days since you've had a baby you get to be selfish and think about yourself!
So, I've put off the therapy...again. I don't want to talk about it with anyone connected to her. Do I want it "fixed"..sure. Do I think it will be "fixed"...no. Would therapy help me deal with it better, accept it more...probably. Am I lazy, stubborn (and poor?) YES.
My mother is not the only one who drives me to therapy. My dad does his share. My dad is also selfish (ie only has negative things to say about the plans the hub and I have for our family regarding his grad school...SOOO not his life!). It's really easy to see when my parents are being selfish because their reasons aren't as logical (or at all) as they make them seem.
But that, is another post entirely.
I don't want to be them. I don't want Connor to avoid being alone with me. To hate to see my number show up on the caller ID. To think that he's not good enough for me. To think that all I want is something to brag about. To feel guilty because I made him feel that way because I was being selfish. I don't want to go "crazy".

I want to be me...but those are the examples I have. Those are also the examples I have of marriage and the hub and I vow that we'll be different in our marriage (we both come from divorce and remarriage etc)...so far we're doing pretty great. I suppose I could try to see it that was as far as parenting is concerned.
That just scares me more. I don't want to mess up my precious boy.

Thanks for listening/reading to what's been on my mind. I can't promise I won't pour out some other story again in an attempt to run from therapy and do it my own way.